Non-confession
by FailingHart
Summary: Relationship talk. When Emma grows distant, Regina confronts her about it. Just lots of feels. (I don't have any plans for this story it was just something in my head. I might continue if it receives enough attention.)


Notes:  
This is non-canon with no real spoilers. You may assume the story happened sometime mid-S2.

This is a SwanQueen story with possibly an implied RedBeauty (depends on how you look at it).

There's mention of Neal-Emma past and implied many other pasts for Emma.

This is my first story and I don't have a beta. All mistakes are mine, unlike the characters which I just borrowed so we can go out and play.

Let me know what you think.

As of now, I don't have any plans for this story. It was just something in my head. I might continue if it gains enough attention.

* * *

"This might be not be an odd time to ask this," she said, more to herself than to me really. I was about to get out of the car but I looked back at her and closed the door.

She would always drive me home whenever the situation presented itself. "It's along the way, dear. Might as well get inside the car," she'd say. And I accepted that as reason enough.

I looked at her blankly now, but I knew what was coming. Words to describe our situation have yet to be invented and I am no word-smith. I've been trying to ignore the problem instead of dealing with it imperfectly.

"Have I done something that upset you?" she continued. Her gaze was hard but I steeled myself to hold it as long as possible.

"Why are you asking this?" I countered. I didn't have any bullets. This was all I could do to delay the inevitable.

"There's been a change in our interactions," she clarified. She continued holding my gaze.

I let go of the breath I didn't realize I was holding and looked away. "No, you didn't do anything," I said.

She sighed. "Really? Because you seem to find all matter of excuses to not see me. And you've been very quite."

"In case you didn't notice," I said as I watched her turn off the car's engine. "I'm not really very interactive. I'd rather not say anything if what I have to say doesn't contribute to the conversation," I said in my defence. At least, this statement was true.

"Yes, and I've been doing just that-I've been trying to justify your actions in my head but they've happened more times than I could count now," she looked at me then as if she could read me.

"Just forget I asked. You may leave." She concentrated her eyes on my apartment's porch as if doing so could will me to be outside the car, away from her. These words kept coming out of her mouth but it was her insecurity speaking.

I looked away, too. I couldn't say this when she is very much real in front of me: "I will answer as honestly as I can," then I started fidgeting with my jacket's zipper because obviously, this is what hands were made for.

"We talked... a lot. And we were close... too close for my..." I hesitated because it will sound selfish. "...for my comfort. I didn't know how to respond to that."

"I think you do, Ms. Swan."

"Logically, maybe I know what the socially acceptable response is. Execution is a different story. We were getting too close." I fidgeted even more.

"Why is that even a problem?" her question was genuine. She was a Queen and now she's Mayor. In all her lives, she had always had her way. People be damned.

"Because I'm weird. I don't know. Look at my friends, we don't talk. I mean, we do talk, but not like _we_ did, Regina."

"Zip zip zip..." my fidgeting responded.

"I still don't get why we need to change it, Emma. I miss talking to you."

"Ugh... You're making me say it," I whispered to the car's wind shield.

She didn't say anything. By now, she knows me enough to recognize when I'm bracing myself for when I'm about to part with a piece of my soul. I crossed my arms to rid the air of the sound of my worried zipper.

I took a deep breath and said the two words that I thought summed up everything, "First rule."

"What's the 'First rule'?" Apparently, I was wrong. Twenty eight years in the real world didn't teach you pop culture.

Or maybe she just wanted me to say it clearly. We've had so many misunderstandings in the past. Now she rarely gambles with me. I had to lay down my cards but I didn't want to, "Don't make me say it," I all but begged.

"I know the 3-month rule," and I turned my head just in time to see she said it with a faint smile. We heard this song on the radio once about the clichés of relationships. This was another one. She was remembering the song, that's what the smile was for.

I looked at her, trying to gauge the truth in her ignorance. "The 'First rule' is everywhere. It was even mentioned in Orange is the New Black." I know she watches that show. For a straight woman, she surrounds herself with so much of the LGBT+ culture.

"It's in a lot of LGBT-themed movies, TV series, stories, fiction in general," I explained with the exhaustion of a lifetime of being f*cked by not following the rule. "First Rule: You don't fall for a straight girl... woman. Or guy... if you're gay,"

The implications of my words make her hesitate for a short moment. I see it anyway. "So," a breath. "What are you saying?" See? She wants me to say everything to the last detail.

"That there is a high chance of me developing feelings if things went on as it was."

"So, you're saying that in every relationship, you just add the element of time and it will always end up in... feelings."

"It applies to me in this situation, yes."

"You know this for a fact."

"Yes, based on historical data."

"Is this a Neal reference?" the question sounded bitter in her voice. The empathy made me smile.

"It's an _everyone_ reference."

"It's alarming how everything always comes back to him."

"It was years ago, but he's the most recent one that mattered. I think it's natural."

"That's a very patient way to love," she gave me a look I couldn't quite read. "You know, it's weird how you, Ruby, and Belle all wave this LGBT flag and yet you all assume I'm straight."

My brain went on overdrive. What is she even saying? "The world made everyone straight by default," a sweeping declaration to hide my surprise as I tucked away that information.

"No, that's just in your head, Emma," she countered.

"I'm just saying, parents don't give their children gay role models. How were they to know anyway?"

"This is the healthiest conversation I've ever had."

"Yeah?"

"It oddly feels like a break-up, though."

"Awkward. It's the most awkward non-confession I've ever had."

"Non-confession?" she asked, and my mind made me think she sounded hopeful.

"Because it hasn't happened yet."

"Oh, right."

"Yeah, it hasn't."

Of course, words have a tendency to have a life of its own after they've been released.


End file.
